was too late for her to return to
Madrid.
“How about we have dinner in
Segovia? I’ll change my double-bed
room for one with two singles. You
can return to Madrid in the morning,”
Miguel suggested.
“Sure. That sounds like a good plan,”
she said hesitantly.
The reality was that she didn’t have a
quick answer and didn’t know what to
do. His two single beds suggestion
made her feel a little trapped. Being
intimate with Miguel wasn’t what she
had in mind. She assumed he didn’t
either. Nothing about their day hinted
at romance. His hotel invite didn’t
have a sexual nuance; otherwise, she’d
have opted for her own room. She had
made love with Javier in Salamanca
and wasn’t ready to make love to a
different man so soon afterward. And
draped over one arm, matching the
tablecloths draped on the tables.
Talavera de la Reina ceramic artesania
wall plates encircled a photo of
Spain’s King Juan Carlos shaking
hands with the restaurant owner. And
while the crowd buzzed with
animated talk, Miguel and Leah spoke
softer and sweeter words as the
hours passed and the wine flowed.
“Here’s my answer,” he said and placed
her hand on his hidden erection.
“I love your face and eyes,” he said. “I
really like you a lot, Leah.”
“I want you,” she sighed when their
eyes met.
“Beautiful compliments, Miguel. Don’t
stop them.”
He walked slowly over to her bed, lay
down beside her and slipped one arm
under her neck while the other drew
her closer to him. They murmured
endearing words on their shared
pillow, words that neither had said
aloud. When their naked bodies
touched, it was the inevitable
continuation of their minds
connecting on the plane. His first
kisses were short and awkward, like
those of a schoolboy’s. The window
shutters were slightly ajar, and the
golden light reflecting into their
room from the nineteen-century
outdoor lantern was their bed cover.
If the room was cold, they didn’t
notice. Words vanished as their kisses
intensified.
“I thought so,” she whispered as they
kissed briefly at the bathroom door
before she pulled away. She walked
into the bedroom with the two single
beds and chose the one closest to the
wall. Miguel stood in the shadows
watching her.
“Can you believe we’re having dinner
in Segovia? When I sat next to you on
that plane, my trip didn’t include this
night with you. Every day had a
purpose; every night had a hotel room
for one.”
“Hey, sometimes we get sprinkled
with magic
dust when we
travel. Maybe
that’s what
happened.
Celebrate life.
We’re living
the best of it
right now.”
“Hey, sometimes we get sprinkled
with magic dust when we travel.
Maybe that’s what happened.
Celebrate life.”
it wasn’t her style to be coerced into
a suggestion like his. She was too
worldly for that nonsense. She
couldn’t imagine he’d be so naïve to
think she’d sleep with him. They were
new friends, seatmate buddies now in
Spain. She liked it that way.
But resisting Miguel’s charm had
become difficult for her, especially
when he spoke to Spaniards in their
language. He sounded so gallant and
polished. She listened and smiled as
he stopped a sweet, arm-holding pair
of elderly women to ask for their
perfect restaurant suggestion. The
evening had a cool nighttime breeze.
Leah’s arm was linked into his, and
she pressed closer to feel his warmth.
The women’s choice was the nearby
José María Restaurant. It had a
four-foot-wide, cast-iron suckling pig
on its outside wall lying in a roasting
pan with its head and legs hanging
over the rim. Skilled waiters could cut
through the regional cochinillo asado
dish by making blunt cuts with a
dinner plate turned sideways.
Miguel and Leah were led to a back
table. Hundreds of wine bottlenecks,
some covered in dust, protruded from
an aqueduct-style wine rack attached
to the wall. Black-suited waiters
scurried about with white napkins